Here Now
by Snarkcasm
Summary: Summary suggested by darlingharbour: A day in the life of the Reso-Orton household


**Author**: Snarkcasm  
><strong>Rating<strong>: G  
><strong>Summary<strong>: If sappy domestic threesome oneshot doesn't interest you, move along.  
><strong>Pairing(s)<strong>: Chrandy+, past!Jay/Denise  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: I do not own any rights to the WWE or the wrestlers mentioned in the story. This is a story of fiction and I make no money from it.  
><strong>Author's Note<strong>: Honestly, I needed to learn how to write fluff. So out popped this slice-of-life domestic threesome fic with Chrandy and Randy's wife just being adorable. Dedicated to **darlingharbour**, who convinced me (through a lot of Zack Ryder hashtagging) that it wasn't as horrific as I thought it was. She also figured out the title and summary. She's very gifted and lovely. :)

Okay, that…_that _wasn't supposed to happen. Slightly panicking as the rolling boil bubbled and foamed dangerously over the top of the pot, Jay grabbed a pot holder and wobbled towards the sink, the pot the furthest it could possibly be from his face. The heat bled quickly through the thin holder and he tried to valiantly ignore the pain to put all the pasta in the strainer, but the heat was too much for him and half the noodles fell into the sink.

He stood there, mute in a herculean effort not to curse a blue streak. Arms wrapped around his waist and a kiss feathered his neck. He sighed, relaxing in said arms. "What are you making?" Smiling, he turned around and his hands cupped her face, bending down to give her a kiss. She giggled into it and tried to snake her tongue in, but he kept it chaste. Barely. It was one of their rules: no sex in the kitchen or living room.

She pulled away with a disappointed pout that Jay just had to kiss away.

"The sauce is boiling." The new voice, male and smugly amused, had Jay jumping like a scalded cat. Randy wasn't supposed to be home for an hour! Sam laughed, looping her arms around her husband and kissing him senseless while Jay tended to the sauce.

"How's the wifey?" Jay threw a dish towel at Randy's face, missing his stupidly handsome face by a mile. He hated being called that and threatened to withhold sex every single time Randy would tease. He admitted that it wasn't the most effective of threats since the Canadian could never follow through. Even now he melted into Randy's passionate kiss, toes curling as the other man's beard scruff scratched at his newly-shaven cheek. A hand curled around his pectoral, and he winced, berating himself for doing so as Randy backed away. "You were supposed to go to the doctor if anything was bothering you." His tone wasn't accusatory, but Jay still felt like a scolded child.

Sam looked at the both of them, a horrified look in her large eyes. Jay knew she was blaming herself for not noticing his pain, and he put a stop to that immediately, running a hand through her fine hair and nuzzling her ear. Sam truly was an angel on Earth—always there to ground both of his and Randy's fucked up lives—so letting her blame herself was completely out of the question. "I'm fine, Sam. The both of you need to stop worrying so much."

"I'm calling Dr. Singh for an appointment tomorrow. Ignoring your injury is extremely stupid, Jay." Randy was such a mother hen. Even out on the road, he had texted Jay nearly every damn day to check up on his reinjured pec. It wasn't even that bad of an injury to begin with; he just sprained it against a booked fight with Stephen, who also wouldn't stop texting to apologize between Viper beat downs. The Canadian had a suspicion that the new Sheamus/Orton feud wasn't just Creative's machinations, and he was _not_ pleased.

"Did you pick up Alanna from daycare?" Sam had quickly changed the topic before Jay could chafe at Randy's mothering, grounding her husband with a proprietary hand to his shoulder. Randy kissed her knuckles and both Sam and Jay rolled their eyes. Jay's eye roll was admittedly more derisive than Sam's.

"She was a little tired from her day, so I settled her down for her noon nap."

"Is everything okay?" Normally Alanna came from school with hyper amounts of energy, and Jay was sure that seeing her dad at the gates would make her giddy beyond belief. His stomach knotted up; what if she was sick? What if it was mono or leukemia or—? He began going over every one of her allergies, hoping that whatever he gave her that morning wasn't on the list.

His thoughts were interrupted by a very solid kiss. Still deep in panic mode, Jay took a while to respond, but when he started to, hungrily, Sam pulled away with a lick of kiss-swollen lips. The _tease_.

"Stop worrying, Reso," she chided gently, leaning into him to tap on his forehead. "I can hear you thinking from miles away. Come help me finish dinner." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Randy pick up the kitchen phone and dial. Instead of finding the nearest knife and throwing it, Jay allowed himself to get lost in Sam's smile as she puttered around the kitchen.

Everyone in the household knew that Jay was a disaster in the kitchen, laundry room—anywhere that involved being a functional human being. After Denise left him, he was a major mess, barely taking care of himself on most days. He had kept his cool around the rest of the roster, but one night he just fell apart, breaking down in a service closet and trying his hardest not to be overheard. He carried on his business as usual, if not a little rubbed raw, but as the stadium was emptying, he just stood there numbly. In a way, the emptying stadium was a perfect metaphor for his life at that moment and being confronted with that image was a swift punch to the gut, a slap to the face, a deep ache far worse than any he sustained in the ring.

Sam had approached him then and touched his arm, lending him her silent strength. Alanna burbled in her arms, latching onto his leather coat like a limpet. They shared a laugh over Alanna's wide-eyed excitement and Sam reached up to kiss him. He remembered backing up so quickly that he ran into Randy's wide chest. He immediately apologized, taking the blame for the kiss and saying he instigated it. He didn't know Sam personally, but she always came off as such a nice person, and she stood by Randy during his drug addiction, and maybe it was inbred Catholic guilt, but Jay didn't want anyone else to get hurt.

While he was explaining how at fault he was, Randy shut him up with a hard, desperate kiss, curling his hand around the back of his head and crushing their torsos together.

"Earth to Reso." He shook himself out of the trip down memory lane to a fondly exasperated Sam. She handed him the strainer and nudged him towards the sink wherein she dumped the pot of noodles. He shook the strainer—trusting himself to do that correctly at least, and nearly dropped everything again when Randy nibbled his ear and whispered his appointment time in a low, sexy rumble. Jay flushed and bit his lip, wishing that they hadn't done the grown up thing and agreed on the "no sex in the kitchen" rule.

"Save that for later!" Sam rapped Randy on the knuckles with her sauce-stained wooden spoon. Randy—"The Viper", the "Legend Killer", a third-generation wrestler and a terror in the ring—yelped and nursed his reddening knuckles with a wounded look on his face. While Jay was holding in his chuckles, Sam swatted him on the ass and told him to get a move on. Scandalized, he scurried to do her bidding. As mild-mannered as Sam could be, she had a feisty, mischievous streak a mile wide that transferred into the bedroom in creative, spine-tingling ways.

He was cutting cucumbers into the salad as Randy set the table and Sam played with Alanna's wispy hair when it hit him. He was home. This was his family. For so long he had been unhappy, constantly searching for that missing piece, and it was in front of his nose the entire time. His grin was beginning to hurt his face.

"Uncle Jay, Uncle Jay! Pick me up!" Alanna demanded, her chubby hands insistent. She was very much her daddy's daughter, and Jay did her bidding. He could never say 'no' to an Orton; they were far too demanding a bunch for the word 'no' to have any impact.

He lifted up his fork in classic Airplane position, intent on feeding a finicky Alanna some of his vegetables (which was _not happening_ with the littlest Orton) when Sam cleared her throat and smoothed her napkin on her lap. "I'm pregnant, by the way. Congratulations."

Jay dropped the forkful of broccoli to Alanna's peals of delighted laughter.


End file.
